


Peace-less Tyranny

by Opatoes



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opatoes/pseuds/Opatoes
Summary: Megatron is never alone, no matter what he tries.





	Peace-less Tyranny

It had been quiet from Autobots and Decepticons alike. At a standstill, both sides were simply waiting for the other to strike. The Autobots didn’t have enough energon to wage an attack, and the Decepticons didn’t know where the Autobots could be. Times like these, many bots were in idle, leaving both bases quiet.

Not Megatron. Even as it was night on the side of the Earth the Nemesis currently flew over, Megatron laid awake in his berth, a sigh leaving the warlord as his chestplates parted, revealing his golden spark, now muddied with dark energon purple. HIs thick claws traced over the edges of his chestplate, before inching towards himself, stroking his ember gently, almost surprisingly so given his history of tearing out sparks. It was quiet, if any eradicons were close enough to the door, perhaps they would hear a pleased gasp escape Megatron, gently squeezing his own spark, which started spinning with delight.

And then, the warlord paused. He had a sudden hunger, one that wasn’t his. He could imagine the taste of dirt and debris lay on his glossa, and images of consuming the core of his homeworld came to his processor.

Immediately, Megatron took his servo out of his chestplates, closing himself up. He had to leave his room for a little while, to walk until these thoughts finally faded. This happened far too often, it almost concerned him. The sacrifices he had to make for the war were immense, far beyond Optimus’, Megatron believed.

This seemed like a good opportunity to take a look, to check up on the ship, to make sure nothing happened while he was occupied. No sign of the Autobots, the next trip to acquire energon would be in the morning, the ship was doing well on fuel, it seemed. Knock Out was out on a date with his buffer, Starscream seemed to be as restless as Megatron, as they nearly ran into each other while both pacing the ship.

A drink or two later, Megatron watches Starscream fly off from the landing deck, wobbling some. Megatron briefly considered stopping Starscream, but instead turned back, heading back to his quarters. He was a skilled air commander, he’ll be fine.

Finally in his room again, Megatron sat at his desk for a moment, legs on the table. Perhaps it was for the best if he didn’t touch his spark for now. No matter, he has equipment that he can use instead.

Slowly, Megatron’s interface panelling parts and slides open, revealing his equipment. Megatron has to pause for a klik, swearing he heard an eradicon outside, but continues on. Nobody would walk in on Megatron, no one would enter at this hour, not unless every energon mine was ruined. When Starscream gets back, he could take care of anything. Starscream is highly capable, and Megatron would rather not be interrupted at this point in time.

He keeps a few digits in his mouth, his other servo slowly stroking his spike, a tight grip, one digit flicking the edge as he brings the servo up, down, and up again. As he begins to get into a rhythm of this, he pulls the digits from his mouth, gently tracing his valve, feeling the folds before he rubs against his exterior node, waiting until he is a bit more wet to place a digit or two inside.

Another moan escapes him as he continues pumping his spike, imagining different bots that he had encounters with, and bots he wished he could have encounters with. Wings, slender digits, images of spinning certain bot’s tires all passed through his mind. The image of a emergency medical siren going off, and a delighted screech from gently nibbling a certain someone’s wings, all played through his mind. His pace increased, vividly remembering his own encounters, and things he only wished he could do with others. Perhaps being bound by his most trusted ally’s tentacles would be nice. Only that bot could do it.

Faster, and faster, Megatron thrusts his digits from his valve, adding an additional digit as he continues on. His sharp digits make self-servicing a tricky task sometimes, but he has done it enough to the point where he no longer scratches the interior of his valve. How embarrassing it was going to the medic those times! He wore little pads on his digits for some time after that for extra protection.

Megatron is quite loud when he overloads. No one on the ship asks what is going on when Megatron screams. No one wants to find out. Tonight, no one but Soundwave will know the reason, Megatron believes.

But as he screams with his overload, he hears another moan. The transfluid now tinting his desk almost had a purple tint to it.

Even like this, he couldn’t be alone. Even like this, Megatron couldn’t find peace.

**Author's Note:**

> This came from a cursed idea in a discord group, and has been bouncing around in my head for a little while now.


End file.
